Cracks and wrinkles of the city

I was 16, when I heard it…may be not. Nevertheless I still remember it. And now, walking through Melbourne I often look into little cracks and lanes of the city.

Each of them is special… may be not.

This lane for example has a bohemian swarm under the café umbrellas any day, any weather. In the others there are evening beerdrinking with loud colleges or the high end party at the most popular restaurant or just a queue of people, which hides there in order to get the best sushi/doughnuts in town.

As we know, the best things are hidden, they lay in cracks and wrinkles of our body, they are little stories of our loud laughter and bitter tears, stories about brightest sun and coldest winters. Stories, which made us who we are and a city the way it is. The best stories. The best city.